Batman

Triangle Cape District, located in the southwest corner of Gotham City, was one of the key maritime transport hubs and home to Triangle Cape Docks.

At Warehouse 461 on Seaside Road, the rolling shutter at the entrance was closed, with two suited gangsters standing guard outside.

Inside the warehouse, a shady deal was underway. As the seller, Sal Maroni wore an indescribably strange expression as he looked at the cash on the ground, which had not even been transferred into different boxes.

Especially with the old black-and-white television beside them reporting on the armored truck robbery.

The Gotham TV host, Big-Mouth Todger, was once again shouting in his astonishment-filled voice and with exaggerated expressions:

"Oh! My God, what the hell is happening to Gotham City? Four-armed gorillas are robbing people now? Does that mean aliens will invade Earth tomorrow?!"

Beep—the television shut off.

Maroni stood up, picked up the glass beside him, and took a sip. "The money checks out. Bring out the goods."

A container loader drove over, carrying two large wooden crates marked with skull-shaped danger symbols.

As the buyer, Barton Mathis smiled happily. The more-than-two-meter-tall monster draped in canvas behind him also raised its head toward the loader.

Whoosh—clang! A metallic impact rang out.

Everyone looked over. One of the loader's lit headlights had been shot out by a black dart.

"Who's there?!" Maroni shouted as he spun around.

The gangsters around him all drew their weapons—pistols, submachine guns—and scanned their surroundings with considerable firepower.

"It's him!" One gangster pulled the dart from the headlight. It was a black bat-shaped dart.

Maroni's expression immediately darkened. According to recent Gotham rumors, a giant bat emerged from the darkness to attack criminals and gangsters.

"Playing tricks!"

Maroni snorted and carried his glass toward the ladder beside the warehouse. Several muffled groans of pain suddenly sounded behind him.

Maroni quickly turned around. On the second-floor steel platform, three gangsters had already been taken down. The groans had come from there.

"Where is he?!"

A gangster holding an Uzi pointed at the upper-right ceiling. That area was pitch-black.

To make transactions easier and keep them secret, the warehouse windows had all been sealed shut. Even during the day, it was impossible to see without lights, let alone in the darkness near the ceiling.

Rat-a-tat-tat...

A stream of bullets struck the ceiling, scattering sparks as they hit the steel framework.

There was nothing there!

Maroni stared wide-eyed in that direction. Barton Mathis, who had been inspecting the goods, also sensed that something was wrong and hurriedly activated a remote control in his hand.

In the sewers outside the warehouse, two figures were approaching...

"Are you looking for me?"

A cold, merciless voice sounded behind Maroni. He quickly turned around, but there was nothing behind him!

"Mm... Aaaaargh!!!"

A gangster was suddenly yanked into the air by a rope, then thrown down and knocked unconscious.

This sort of scene that belonged in a horror movie made everyone else tense up, fearfully watching the dark corners.

"Don't panic!" Maroni had barely shouted the words.

One frightened gangster raised his submachine gun and pulled the trigger at places the lights could not reach.

Rat-a-tat-tat...

Sparks from bullet impacts flashed in the darkness, and the others began pulling their triggers as well.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

A series of piercing sounds rang out as several Batarangs flew from the shadows. One gangster who had been firing was struck in the neck and immediately passed out.

The other Batarangs seemed to have eyes, striking the hands of those who were shooting.

The gangsters clutching their hands screamed one after another.

"Who is it?! Show yourself!"

Maroni stood on the stairs with a pistol in hand and shouted loudly. The gangsters below had already become terrified birds; the slightest disturbance could make them open fire.

"I'm here..."

Hearing the voice behind him, Maroni did not hesitate. He turned and pulled the trigger, but when he spun around, all he saw was a black fist smashing heavily into his face.

Maroni was sent flying off the stairs by that punch, crashing into a wooden crate before falling to the ground with a scream.

His mouth was full of crimson blood, and he spat out a broken tooth.

Thud... thud... thud... Footsteps sounded from the stairs. Every step echoed through the warehouse, as though pounding against everyone else's hearts.

The remaining gangsters held their guns and nervously watched the stairs. There was nothing! Nothing at all!

The sound of swallowing only made them more worried, afraid that what they were facing was not... human!

Up on the warehouse ceiling.

Batman, Bruce Wayne, gripped a steel cable and looked down from above at the nervous gangsters below.

"Four... five... six... seven people. Twenty seconds!"

Batman grabbed the rope and dropped to the ground in less than a second, landing right in the middle of them.

Imagine it—someone suddenly appearing behind you. What kind of scene would that be...

"Aaaaargh!!!"

The gangsters' panicked cries made them frantically swing their guns around, but Batman's fists were faster.

Having traveled across many countries, learned all kinds of martial arts, and integrated them into his own style, Batman fought to defeat his opponents as quickly as possible.

Few of the people he sent to the police station were fortunate enough to escape without broken ribs or broken arms.

And clearly, these men were not among the fortunate ones.

"Agh!"

A gangster screamed as he fell to the floor. Batman followed up with a kick, then grabbed another man and slammed him onto the first. He seized the man's arm and twisted it hard—crack.

"Aaaaargh!!!"

The crisp sound of breaking bone could not be covered even by the screams.

Only physical pain could make them afraid, make them fear, make them understand that this city still had something they should dread.

Batman drove a sharp elbow into one gangster's chest, then grabbed his hair and punched him in the face.

His nose ran like a faucet that had been turned on, spraying blood as his body crashed to the floor.

"Don't move! Don't move!"

The last gangster trembled as he held his pistol on Batman. Suddenly, he felt something tug at his foot.

With a ripping sound, the rope tightened.

It yanked him into the air. Before he could even scream, he was slammed back down.

"Seventeen seconds..." Batman turned his head toward the other side.

With him at the center, bodies lay sprawled all around. Barton Mathis, the Dollmaker, rose from behind the cargo crates while clapping.

"Impressive, impressive. I really thought you were just a Gotham urban legend. So there really is... a giant bat!"

Batman reached for his belt and threw a Batarang. The Dollmaker Barton jumped in fright at the sight of it.

A large hand blocked it in front of him. The Batarang bounced off its hand with a clang and fell to the ground.

"ROAR!!!"

The monster standing behind the Dollmaker Barton tore away the skin covering its body. Its towering body was covered in stitched scars, its enormous muscles outlined like those of a bodybuilder injected with petroleum.

Its four scar-covered arms spread wide as the monster strode forward with heavy steps.

"Masterpiece No. 29, tear this bat apart!"

The Dollmaker Barton shouted with crazed excitement in his eyes. This was the masterpiece he had pursued all his life, his finest work.

No... perhaps it could be even better.

The Dollmaker Barton stared greedily at Batman. That terrifying attack just now, that instantaneous explosive strength—what a perfect body. If he could use him as material...

"Ha ha ha ha! Ah ha ha ha! Take him down! Scrap No. 11, Defective No. 31!"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The warehouse's metal rolling shutter was hammered from outside, bulging inward with dent after dent before a thunderous crash rang out.

A sledgehammer smashed through the metal, and a round ball of flesh crashed inside, rolling across the floor.

Though Batman was somewhat surprised by the sight, he showed no panic. He took two steps back and leaped onto the stairs to claim the high ground.

The ball of flesh came to a stop. When two feet planted themselves on the ground, Batman finally saw that it was... a person!

Its flesh and skin had all been stitched together, with even its head sewn inside. Only one arm and two feet protruded from the mass.

Its entire body was a stitched-up ball of flesh, patterned like a soccer ball. That sole arm gripped a sharp, bloodstained dagger.

There was another movement at the warehouse doors. A figure in high heels walked in, the heels making crisp clicking sounds against the floor.

She dragged a sledgehammer behind her and wore a white nurse's uniform dotted with conspicuous bloodstains. The hammer was stained with blood as well.

The skin on both her thighs was missing, exposing red muscle fibers. Her arms were the same. A designer handbag covered her head and hid her face, though her chest was rather full.

"Take him down!" the Dollmaker Barton shouted.

Masterpiece No. 29, which had been waiting for this moment, spread its four thick arms and lunged at Batman. Batman promptly fired his grappling gun and rose into the air, evading the crushing embrace.

But the iron staircase was not so lucky.

Masterpiece No. 29 wrapped its arms around it and forcibly bent it out of shape, twisting the metal steps flat.

The spherical Scrap No. 11 suddenly bounced up, slashing its dagger at Batman. Batman blocked it with the metal blade on his arm, and sparks flew where the blades collided.

Batman had barely landed when Defective No. 31 swung her sledgehammer down at him. Batman rolled aside to evade it.

With a boom, the sledgehammer smashed heavily into the ground.

Vroom! Vrooom! Vroooom!!!

The sound of an engine suddenly roared outside the warehouse. Before any of them could pay attention to it, a loud crash erupted.

The metal rolling shutter, already smashed open with a large hole, was rammed apart as a tan Dodge sedan crashed inside.

The metal sheeting on the shutter scraped against the sedan with an ear-piercing shriek, but the car did not slow down in the slightest.

Defective No. 31 had just turned around with her sledgehammer raised when the sedan slammed into her and sent her flying. Batman, behind her, hurriedly jumped and rolled over the car's roof before landing, narrowly avoiding being hit as well.

The sedan spun around on the spot, its tires running over several unlucky gangsters and turning the floor into a sticky, gruesome mess of blood.

The car's engine roared again. Defective No. 31, who had been thrown into a pile of wooden crates, had just gotten back up.

The sedan rammed forward again, plowing into her along with the entire stack of crates and crushing Defective No. 31 in between.

"Hey, babe! How about a taste of my Remington?"

An incomparably arrogant voice rang out from inside the car, followed by the deep roar of a Remington M870 Shotgun.